Chapter 64 ….
In God of Ose, there’s a saying:
“You’ve never even been to Brion? Then you’ve never really fought.”
Arde is a tutorial for beginners. Raven is like a light stretch. The place that can truly be called combat begins with Brion.
It wasn’t just empty bravado.
“Bullshit? Have you ever seen an orc up close? Even the regular mobs are one and a half times the size of a Goblin Chieftain. And they charge like wild colts with the reins cut loose.”
“Damn it, since when are orcs and goblins even comparable!? They’re on completely different levels!”
Standing well over two meters tall, with massive, heavyweight-class muscle, orcs were built like hulking mountains of flesh.
If goblins had sly, sneaky faces, orcs had the kind of savage, vicious look that fit the word ferocious perfectly. Their mere presence was threatening.
Now imagine those creatures wielding double-bladed axes.
If you ran into one at night, most people would wet themselves on the spot.
They were terrifying even standing still—so when they got excited and charged? It was straight out of a horror movie.
“U-uaaagh!”
“Hey, you idiot! Why aren’t you grabbing aggro!?”
“H-how am I supposed to block that!?”
“Grab aggro! Grab it!”
“God, these troll bastards!”
“How did guys like that even beat the field boss? Did they get carried?”
“Must’ve been a multi-party clear. Damn it. I’m telling you, that guy’s barely Rank D after graduation. No doubt.”
The ones who felt the fear most were the tanks.
Naturally—being the position responsible for holding all aggro at the front line.
Call them warriors or whatever—at the end of the day, they’d only ever fought goblins.
Bigger goblins, maybe—but goblins all the same. The usual punching bags of every fantasy world.
How could they possibly adapt immediately when facing orcs for the first time?
If I exaggerate a little… it’s like standing barehanded in front of a raging bull with its eyes rolled back.
And it wasn’t just one bull.
They were already struggling to adapt, and unlike a field boss, they couldn’t just mob it together. They had to hold aggro alone.
As a result, four out of ten tanks hunting orcs for the first time stiffened up in panic.
And the other six?
…They were better than those four—but not by much.
“Who the hell blocks a charge with a shield? Did you block the mutant warrior’s charge like that too!? You’re supposed to deflect it!”
“Ugh, so frustrating. If you’re just going to tank everything with your body, why even carry a shield?”
“You think I don’t know that? They’re charging from every direction! If you’re so good, you tank it! Stop backseating, you damn fossil!”
“Fossil? You little brat…!”
For players who had grown accustomed to predictable attack patterns, the reckless, battering-ram style of orcs was an entirely new world.
Goblins and orcs had vastly different instincts. And the importance of aggro had skyrocketed.
It wasn’t just a tank problem, either.
Melee DPS would rush in to “help” before aggro was stabilized and get killed. Ranged DPS would fail to control damage, pull aggro, and shatter the formation entirely.
“This is why you don’t accept fresh graduates.”
“Ugh. From now on I’m skipping Level 24s. Minimum 27 before they’re even usable.”
“If they’ve got aggro traits or unique skills, maybe.”
“That guy’s hopeless. If he’s that scared… he’ll probably delete his character and switch roles soon.”
That was why beginners were looked down upon in Brion—and why Dohyeon received no party invitations despite being out in the field.
“Excuse me, party—… actually, never mind.”
“What level are you? Oh, 24? Ah… sorry. Maybe next time.”
“What’s with that gloomy short guy? Why’s he so small? Is he human or a guardian?”
“Leave him. He’ll figure it out.”
They hadn’t even intended to party up; they were filtering themselves out.
To them, a beginner ranged DPS might be tolerable—but a beginner melee DPS? A walking landmine.
—Kieeek! Foolish humans!
—Rizari-za!
Jihad, who had just been labeled a gloomy short guy, fumed indignantly—but they were already gone.
Eliza, perched on his shoulder, rubbed her face against him in comfort—like a relative nodding along when a nephew vents after being slighted.
Jihad still looked upset.
Dohyeon, on the other hand, felt great.
Works out nicely for me.
Thanks to that, they entered deeper into the Fishy Rock Forest without interference.
After walking in far enough, Dohyeon glanced around.
They weren’t kidding about the name. The smell’s awful.
A faint mist blanketed the area. Massive rocks, stained dark red with blood, lay scattered throughout the forest. Combined with the metallic stench, it felt as if several people had died here.
And in that place, players were busily hunting orcs.
Well—not all of them successfully.
“Charge! Dodge!”
“Okay—Aaaagh!”
“Idiot! I said dodge!”
“It’s fine! I’ve got aggro! Kill it!”
A party of recent Raven graduates was struggling desperately against a group of orcs. The tension rivaled a boss attempt.
Meanwhile, another party nearby hunted in complete contrast.
“Nice~ Clean kill.”
“Keep it up. How many left?”
“About… thirty?”
“Damn, you’re faster than me. I’ve got thirty-six.”
Their movements were obviously experienced. Even their gear shone differently. The gap in wealth and skill was unmistakable—despite being the same field.
They said the gap widened even more after job quests started.
Unlike Arde and Raven, which were relatively balanced, Brion introduced job quests.
Naturally, players with similar divine ranks grouped together.
Except for a few special cases, the job quests of Myth Gods and Hero Gods were fundamentally different.
“Tch, why did my job quest have to be material farming?”
“It’s rough, but at least it’s efficient. Myth Gods get stuck doing temple labor for NPCs. Where’s the fun in that?”
“True.”
Listening in, Dohyeon confirmed—they were Hero Gods.
Unless it was mandatory dungeon content, those two parties would likely never mix.
This was a city where stratification had truly begun.
Though in shared content, traits and gear matter more anyway.
Even which classes were favored changed depending on boss traits.
Not that it mattered to Dohyeon.
He picked a spot and stretched lightly.
Chirik—chik.
Two large orcs in the distance locked eyes with him.
With their already vicious faces twisted further into scowls, it was easy to understand why newbies ran.
“Look at that realism. You can even see their muscles twitch.”
To Dohyeon, though—they were cute.
Back in Demrock, he’d hunted orcs even as a beginner. Sure, virtual reality felt more vivid—but after devouring zombie dragons, mere orcs were laughable.
Chwieeek—!
The orcs charged, perhaps offended by his indifferent stare.
Kugugugugu—
The sight of two orcs charging side by side was devastating.
There was a reason players called them “Advancing Orcs.”
Trying to block it head-on was for amateurs.
Maybe you could stop one. But the second follow-up charge? Impossible.
But—
“Worth trying.”
Dohyeon didn’t dodge. He stood firm.
He wanted to test his current specs.
It’s not like I’ll die.
His HP was solid. His defense was beyond Level 24 standards.
Still, this was his first time deliberately blocking such an obvious charge. A flicker of tension ran through him.
Kugugugugu—
Chwieeek!
The ground trembled beneath their pounding feet.
Murmurs spread among nearby players.
“Huh? What’s he doing?”
“No way—he’s trying to tank that without a shield? Is he insane?”
“What’s that tiny thing in his hand? A staff? He’s not even a tank! And why isn’t the robed guy behind him running!?”
“Is he a staff god or something?”
Ignoring them, Dohyeon lowered his stance and thrust his shoulder forward.
The classic “shoulder tackle” stance.
He had just challenged an orc to a shoulder-check.
“Wow, he’s really going for it.”
“He’s lost it.”
“I’m not watching. This’ll be brutal.”
Seconds later—
Bam!
Dohyeon lunged forward.
Crash!
Orc shoulder met human shoulder. The impact thundered through the forest.
Even those who had looked away snapped back in shock.
They’d expected him to be flung like paper.
And someone was flung.
—Chwieeek!?
It just wasn’t him.
It was the orc.
“Crazy…”
Not even a tank. Not a monk. A staff user.
And yet—
Chwik!
The remaining orc charged in vengeance.
Surely he couldn’t withstand a second hit.
Crash!
Another thunderous impact.
—Chwi…ek?
The orc’s pupils shook violently.
Dohyeon stood unmoved.
The orc staggered back unconsciously.
“Chwi… chwieek…”
Dohyeon brought his staff down.
In that moment, its shape changed.
Its length extended. Its edge sharpened.
By the time it sliced through the orc’s neck, it had become a sword.
Slash—!
Thrust!
He pierced its heart.
The first orc lunged again.
Dohyeon threw the sword.
It transformed midair into a dagger.
Thud!
That was the end.
The dagger flew back into his hand as if returning home.
Silence fell.
“…What did I just see?”
That single sentence broke the stillness.
Dohyeon slowly lifted his head.
His face looked dazed.
But his eyes burned with excitement.
[Cheonbyeon (Thousand Changes) transforms into “Bastard’s Training Sword.”]
[Karuk’s Red and Blue Leather Top activates, resisting Knockback.]
…
[Cheonbyeon (Thousand Changes) transforms into “Assassin’s Dagger.”]
[Bleed effect activated.]
Holy hell. That was insane.
The moment Cheonbyeon (Thousand Changes)—the authority once wielded by the War God Kashiyar, the only human feared even by gods—bared its fangs once more.
